


Sparrow’s Flight

by Mewcedes



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, High School, Original Character(s), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28545579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mewcedes/pseuds/Mewcedes
Summary: Fallen from the sky, Sparrow is raised without knowledge of her legacy, her family. But when she’s forced to leave the nest, she encounters more than she’s bargained for.*characters are in an xmen evolution sort of universe, ie: teens
Relationships: Kurt Wagner/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	1. Beginning

A piercing cry roused Maria from her restless sleep. She saw plumes of pain and fear drifting in through the cracks of the walls of her cabin, like a heavy, violet and brown fog. Maria was a talented empath, with her ability manifesting itself into each of her senses. A shock ran through her and she bolted from bed, feeling the raw emotions as if they were her own. Pulling on a pair of boots, the nightgown clad woman ran out into the eerie morning twilight, sharp, icy crystals of snow biting at her calves. The tiny cabin was as remote as they come, nestled in the dense, old growth forests that define northern west coast islands. Maria hadn’t seen another soul in weeks, not since she last took the skiff down the channel for supplies. For things she couldn’t get at home; oil, flour, alcohol for when the mood hit. Besides that, she lived in solitude. Her power was too overwhelming to live in civilization any longer, and her retirement had been a blissful retreat to the old ways she was raised in. Maria’s yard was a worn path, decorated with old stumps and nurse logs. No new footprints decorated the snow, only hers from the evening before. Now standing in the cold air, not a sound could be heard, but still the haze and pungent smell of emotion lingered in the air. Maria followed it, trudging purposefully through the undisturbed snow, off her regular path and into the dark of the woods. The haze became thick, its tendrils gripping at her limbs. A raven cawed purposefully above her, drawing her attention to a large patch of devil’s club. Minding the spines, she pushed aside the sparse leaves and held back a gasp.  
A mess of black feathers lay before her, peppered with blood and tree debris. The raven cawed again and took flight, it’s wings beating heavily in the still air. Maria reached out a shaking hand, ‘is this another vision?’, she asked herself. But the small body before her felt all too real and as she brushed the feathers aside she saw the pale, delicate face of a baby. She bent to pick up the child, the winged child, moist with old and new blood. The movement woke the child, the little girl, who began crying anew. Holding her close, Maria trudged back to her cabin.  
‘How could another mutant get here?’


	2. A Name

Maria shut the door to her cabin with a bang, reaching for a woollen blanket hung over a chair by the entrance. Wrapping the little girl up tightly in the blanket, Maria held the baby close as she shook and wailed, curling her little fists and fanning her wings erratically. Focusing her energies, Maria pushed a ripple of calm towards the child as she rocked her in her arms. Slowly, she began to calm, absorbing the shared emotion and closing her bright blue eyes. “I haven’t lost my touch after all”, Maria mumbled to herself, moving towards the iron stove in the center of her cabin. Holding the now quiet and bundled baby in one arm, she reached out to open the heavy metal door and stoke the embers, encouraging them into delicate flames. Adding a piece of wood, she shut the stove and settled in her favourite rocking chair. Soon, the fire rose up, bathing the room in a warm and flickering glow. With all settled, Maria’s dark brown eyes settled on the sleeping child in her lap. Bundled tightly as only a practiced caregiver could do, a tiny head was all that could be seen. Closed, almond shaped eyes were framed on a scrunched, pale face by slicked back, blonde hair. Carefully opening the blanket, Maria could see that this child was newly born, with the umbilical cord hardly dry. The wings were….. like a bird’s. Black like a raven and big for her body. The child was so light. She looked to be 7 or so pounds, but couldn’t weigh more than 3. But where was the mother? Maria wrapped the child again and lay back in the chair, cradling her to her chest. Rocking back gently, she closed her eyes and reached out with her mind. She knew the island, knew its paths and beaches. She let her mind wander them, searching for anyone, any lingering emotion. But there was nothing. Even if the mother were dead, there would be a haze, a feeling. There was nothing. “Perhaps the Creator..” Maria mumbled. A cooing chirp rose her from her meditation, and she opened her eyes, greeted by those of the little bird she held to her chest. “My little Sparrow,” she mused, “I suppose we have each other now.”


End file.
